Log24

 Best Wishes for a
C. S. Lewis
Christmas

 

Image of Lewis from Into the Wardrobe

“What on earth   is a concrete   universal?” — Robert M. Pirsig, author of Zen and the Art of Motorcyle Maintenance For one approach to an answer, click on the picture at left.

Update of 4:23 PM:

The Lewis link above deals with the separation of Heaven from Hell.  The emphasis is on Heaven.  A mysterious visitor to this website, “United States,” seems to be seeking equal time for Hell.  And so…

Cross-Referenced

From today’s New York Times,
a review of a Werner Herzog film,
“Wheel of Time,” that opens
today in Manhattan:

These images suggest
a Google search on the phrase
“crucified on the wheel of time,”

DARK CITY (1998) Crucified on the Wheel Of Time. A visual feast.

From Dark City: A Hollywood Jesus Movie Review —

“There is something mesmerizing about this important film. It flows in the same vein as The Truman Show, The Game, and Pleasantville.  Something isn’t real with the world around John Murdoch. Some group is trying to control things and it isn’t God.”

Amen.

Related material:
Skewed Mirrors and
The Graces of Paranoia

Order and Disorder

From “Connoisseur of Chaos,”
by Wallace Stevens, in
Parts of a World, 1942:

I

A.  A violent order is a disorder; and
B.  A great disorder is an order.
    These Two things are one. (Pages of illustrations.)               

IV  

A.  Well, an old order is a violent one. This proves nothing.
    Just one more truth, one more
    Element in the immense disorder of truths.

B.  It is April as I write. The wind
    Is blowing after days of constant rain.
    All this, of course, will come to summer soon.
    But suppose the disorder of truths should ever come
    To an order, most Plantagenet, most fixed. . . .
    A great disorder is an order.
    Now, A And B are not like statuary, posed
    For a vista in the Louvre. They are things chalked
    On the sidewalk so that the pensive man may see.

V

    The pensive man . . . He sees that eagle float
    For which the intricate Alps are a single nest.

Related material:

Skewed Mirrors,
Sept. 14, 2003

“Evil did not  have the last word.”
— Richard John Neuhaus, April 4, 2005

Report to the
Joint Mathematics Meetings

“What was the lecture about,
Cosmo wanted to know.

‘It’s about solving equations
of the fifth degree,
which are supposed to be insoluble.'”

— Chapter 2 of
The Shadow Guests,
by Joan Aiken

For more material on insolubility
of fifth-degree equations
and on this winter’s
Joint Mathematics Meetings
(Phoenix, Jan. 7-10), see
the January 6 entry
720 in the Book.

For more material on Joan Aiken,
who died on January 4,
see the previous entry.

The number 720 is the order of
the symmetric group of degree 6.

For material related to
exceptional outer automorphisms
of this group and to
a song about Arizona, see

Skewed Mirrors.

Arizona Star:

“Shinin’ like a diamond
 she had tombstones
in her eyes.”

Two More Skewed Mirrors

Background: Previous three entries and
The Crucifixion of John O’Hara.

1. From The New Yorker,
   issue dated Sept. 22, 2003…

   John Updike on John O’Hara —

   And yet the ultimate units of society, the human individuals lost within the crushing agglomeration of hostility, rivalry, snobbery, exclusion, and defeat that O’Hara felt in his bones, have aspirations and hopes and passions, and can be regarded with tenderness by a writer whose bleak and swift style seems at first not to care. A small story from “Files on Parade” (1939) titled “By Way of Yonkers” sticks in my mind as especially moving. Its two principals, the young woman unnamed and the man named only in the last sentence, exist on the lower levels of Depression survival. She, with her gunmetal stockings and Cossack hat and “neat, short nose with jigsaw nostrils,” seems to be a hooker. She arrives at the man’s shabby apartment so late that he tells her she must have come by way of Yonkers, and when he asks “How’d you do?” of the engagement that delayed her she not quite evades the question:

   “Oh—” she said it very high. Then: “All right. Financially. But do we have to talk about it? You and me?”

   She talks instead about her fading appetite for liquor, and the expense of dental care. He, lying inert and fully dressed on his bed, talks of being broke, of not wanting to take money from her, of how he can’t seem “to make a connection in this town.” The town is New York, and he is a minor gangster thrown out of work by the repeal of Prohibition. But he has met a man who offered him a connection in Milwaukee, and he is going to go there for a long time. The concluding words are unspectacular and unexpectedly sweeping:

   [She asks,] “Any chance you being back in town soon?”
   “Well, not right away, honey. First I have to build up my connection again.”
   “Well, I don’t have to tell you, I’m glad for you. It’s about time you got a good break.” She resumed rubbing his ankle. He put his hand on the top of her head.
   “Yeah? You’re as good a break as I ever got.”
   “Ah, Christ, Bill,” she said, and fell face down in tears.

   One is moved not only by their plight of presumably eternal separation but by the dignity that O’Hara, in a literary time of programmatic pro-proletarian advocacy (Odets and Steinbeck and Mike Gold), instinctively brings to his two specimens of lowlife. He does not view them politically, from above; he is there in the room with them, and one is moved by the unspoken presence of an author so knowing, so unjudgmental, so nearly an outcast himself.

2. Johnny Cash singing “Hurt” —
   
   The video can be seen here.

Ah, Christ, Johnny.